I let myself want. “Well, stop it,” I breathe. Charlie looks at me, exhausted, one hand anchored against the back of his neck. He releases it with a sigh and props himself against the wall at my side, his palm against the brick, his long body slouched in exasperation. Loose lines and slumped shoulders. “Sure, all right,” he says. “What should I stop?” “Stop holding yourself together,” I tell him, and then I do exactly what I’ve wanted to do every single time I’ve seen him since he left me in my bed with a Post-it note smiley face and a hickey on my neck. I do the thing I told myself I wasn’t
...more
